Get Out
by Marionette
Summary: He shut her up the only way he knew how. Odd summary, yes, but now you have to read it to know what's going on! Mwahahaha. Anyway, please r&r! **Chapter 4**
1. Surprise

"Draco?"  
  
He didn't answer, and she knew he wouldn't. He had explained it to her once, back in their third year. That silence was a complete nothingness; a rare and wonderful occurrence that he strived to achieve. Silence, to him, was more precious than the greatest gold, and worth more than his father's name. She had not understood, but it was not often that she grasped anything her best friend said to her.  
  
While she never really knew what he meant when he talked, she knew Draco had a language all his own. If he spoke right away, then it was your signal to get out while you still could. If he answered with a slow drawl, it meant "proceed with caution". But silence? Silence was Draco's way of being friendly; an equivalent to someone elses "Hi, come on in, how ya doin', have you lost weight?"  
  
Pulling the door back, she saw the boy's dormitories. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be there, but after he had befriended her in their first year, she had practically become a fixture. None of the male Slytherins even noticed her presence anymore. Leaning against the doorframe, she called his name again. "Draco?"  
  
The hangings on the bed farthest to the left ripped back, revealing a tall, lithe figure sitting, perplexed, on the bed. She smiled lightly; Draco had always been very easy on the eyes. With fair white-blonde hair, pale skin, and eyes that would have been pretty if they weren't so callous, he was considered quite the catch. She imagined she would have been quite in love with him if they weren't such good friends. Her attention shifting from the boy himself to the red envelope in his hand, she grimaced. "A howler, huh?"  
  
His eyes narrowed, giving her a glance that she couldn't quite read. "Yes, a howler." Cool demeanor threatening to give way to his anger, he took a deep breath. "I don't even know what I did wrong."  
  
She furrowed her brow, trying to recall the last time he had gotten himself in trouble. He had done nothing she could recall, other than hanging out with her. Lucius Malfoy had always held a certain. . . distaste for her. He considered it a tragedy to have a muggle born in Slytherin house, and nearly died of shame when Draco and her had become close. It was in the later years that he had learned the word "mudblood", though he had never once used it to describe her. Others, maybe, but she was the exception.  
  
"I can't think of anything, either. Are you just going to let it explode?" A quite funny incident, actually, had happened just the other week. Pansy Parkinson had received one, and was just going to let it explode. Se had been about to start another fight with her (she had always been jealous of her close relationship with Draco.) when the blasted thing had exploded in her face. Not only had she received a stern letter from her parents and a lecture from Professor Dumbledore, but she had had to walk around with singed eyebrows for a week.  
  
He sighed dramatically, which was odd, since Draco was usually anything but dramatical around her. To her he was quiet and introverted, nice in a mean sort of way. "No, I have to open it. If I didn't he'd find out and just send a worse one." He paused, patting a seat on the bed, "Want to witness the opening?"  
  
Nodding cautiously, she took the seat offered her. His hands tore at the red envelope, and both winced in anticipation of a loud booming voice screaming at Draco for apparent wrong doings.  
  
That wasn't, however, what they heard.  
  
Instead, they heard Lucius's normal voice. A bit louder than usual, of course, but his tone was the same. She quickly assumed that the only reason howlers were so deafening was because parents were screaming when they made them. His words were firm, with disappointment ringing through them.  
  
"I expected it, Draco, I really did. You're fifteen, and every once and awhile you will come across a girl that you will, for some unexplainable reason, think you like more than a friend. I anticipated many girls, Pansy or maybe even Milicent, but her? I cannot believe you. You shame me, boy. Your infatuation will end. Now."  
  
Then it was gone.  
  
She blinked once, then licked her lips, glancing toward him. "So.who was he talking about? You never told me about any crushes."  
  
There was something different about him for precisely one moment; his posture was less than perfect, his hair seemed in disarray, his porcelain skin was flushed, and his eyes registered emotion. Pure, conflicted feelings. He shook his head slightly, before pointing at the still open door. "Get out."  
  
"But Draco, that's not fa-"  
  
He cut her off quickly by placing his lips on hers. For once tedious yet indescribable moment, they sat there. It was not passionate, but it meant something. She could almost taste three simple words on his lips. Then the magic ended, and he pulled back. Giving her a light shove off his bed, he avoided her eyes. "Get out, Hermione." The curtains around his bed slammed shut.  
  
Touching her lips lightly as she went, she left.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
A/N: Why am I writing D/Hr? I don't know. Best explanation in a review gets a million dollars. Only not really. Why is Hermione in Slytherin? Because I felt like putting her there, that's why. If you have a problem with it, I'm sorry. Learn to deal, 'cause I don't care. I'm the author, so I can do whatever I darn well please! Mwahahahaha! Anyway, please review! 


	2. Avoidance

Ever since the kiss there had been silence.  
  
It was not even the comfortable type of silence; it was more a semblance of avoidance. Hermione was becoming incredibly frustrated. He was her bloody best friend, and now he could not even talk to her? This was definitely not the Draco she'd known for so many years. His almost-bashful behavior (because Malfoys never showed enough emotion to be considered "bashful") was disturbing, and the more he refused to return her gaze, the more determined she became to somehow meet his eyes.  
  
'Boys!' she thought impatiently, as she leaned against the wall right next to the male sixth year Slytherin dormitories. Draco was in there. She'd seen him enter earlier to escape her, yet this would also lead to his demise. He could stay in there for as long as he pleased, but at that moment, she was the Goddess of Patience. If it took all night, so be it. She'd completed all of her homework earlier, anyway.  
  
After a good thirty minute time lapse, something stirred from inside the room, and the door creaked open. Draco walked out and closed the door behind him before he noticed the still figure waiting for him. His expression changed ever so briefly into one of panic, then regained its cool composure. "Stalking me, are you?"  
  
She rolled her eyes at him before standing up straight and getting a firm grip on his arm. "We need to talk."  
  
Shaking back a piece of fair hair away from his face, he raised a perfectly formed eyebrow. "Really? That's odd. I can't think of a thing I want to say to you.. . ." his voice trailed off and while she could sense his anger, she also knew he wasn't going to leave.  
  
And before she could stop herself, the words were out of her mouth. "Stop acting ignorant; I would think you'd have quite a few things to say to me. After all, you kissed me, remember?"  
  
Draco glared at her, ripping his arm away from her and staring at a point just over the top of her shoulder. "Everyone makes mistakes," he spoke evenly, but his voice threatened to give way, "Look, Granger, I'm sorry, but right now I really don't want anything to do with you." He ripped his arm away from her grip, then turned to walk away.  
  
"Afraid to face me, Malfoy? Is that it?" Her eyes were narrowed, and for a moment she thought he'd just keep walking. But she knew Draco, and Draco never ever let an insult to his name go without punishment.  
  
So, as she had guessed, he whipped back around, and pinned her against the wall. Suddenly, she felt a small surge of fear; had she overstepped one too many boundaries? Was this how it would end, pushed roughly into a wall by the boy she'd considered her best friend until a week ago?  
  
His face leaned into her own, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her again. Instead he stopped an inch from her faces, and stared her down. Her fear increased as she slowly began to realize that she would have liked it if he'd lean in and close that inch. There was no such luck; after keeping her in that position for a few moments, he released her and took a step back. "Why would I be scared of a mudblood?"  
  
Her jaw dropped as he walked away.  
  
  
  
Hermione had returned to her room after the confrontation and had rooted in her bed. She had shed no tears; there was no spiteful cursing of his name. Truthfully, she was just too stunned to move. He'd done the one thing she thought he would never ever do, overstepped the one line that should have remained left alone.  
  
He'd called her a mudblood.  
  
She shook her head in an effort to rid herself of all her thoughts, but it was futile. It had happened; she had been there. The only indication that there was some of the Draco she knew still inside was the utter silence as he'd walked away from her down the hall. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed. There was nothing she could do about it.  
  
She was alone now.  
  
Throughout her entire time in Slytherin house, she'd always felt like an outsider in a group of close friends, with the exception of Draco. The other Slytherins were nice to her, (and she suspected he had something to do with that) but it was frosty sort of politeness. Now, without Draco to protect her, they could be as openly hostile as they pleased. She felt a small surge of fear, which she promptly pushed back. Emotionally, she was a strong person. She didn't need a shield from the world. Trying to feel braver than she did, Hermione stood, grabbed a book, and exited the girl's dormitories. Why should she have to hide from the world just because he had been a jerk and a complete idiot to let go of her friendship? Her confidence rose as she made he way down to the common room.  
  
It was ten at night by now, and while the common room was still populated, it was not as crowded as it might have been earlier in the evening. Stray students were still trickling through the door in pairs and trios, confiding within their own groups. Hermione frowned slightly; that was the only real problem she had with Slytherin house. They rarely laughed. She saw Gryffindors walk down the corridor and they would let out giggles and smiles with a warmth she'd only ever seen Draco posses with they were alone. It was something she would never understand, the need to keep their poker faces. They were human, and she thought it couldn't possibly be right to never laugh. She shrugged it off; after six years she'd become accustomed to the stony faces of her peers. Instead of worrying about it, she found a seat near the fire and sat down.  
  
The orange glow was warm, and she even found herself smiling lightly as she engrossed herself in her book. Already the bad events of the day were slipping away as the text seemed to live before her eyes. No one had really ever understood her love of books, except for maybe. . .  
  
Draco?  
  
His voice was soft but very clear, and her eyes immediately darted up to see him stagger in with Pansy Parkinson on his arm. He led her down the couch opposite Hermione; she had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what he was doing. She forced her eyes to fall back on the page, but it wasn't the same. The pictures refused to form in her mind, and though she tried to concentrate, her eyes kept moving to a certain distraction across the room.  
  
'Eugh,' she thought disgustedly, 'Calling me a mudblood is one thing, but he must be really seeking revenge if he's willing to snog Pansy Parkinson.' Pansy was perched on his lap, a grin, not of happiness but more of victory, spread widely across her face. He also was smiling, but Hermione took a small satisfaction in the fact that she knew he was completely miserable. No matter what he did, she knew he privately found Pansy completely unattractive in the way she threw herself at him.  
  
'Serves him right.'  
  
His eyes shifted over Pansy's shoulder and locked with hers. Suppressing a surprised look as best she could, she raised her eyebrows skeptically, then returned her attention (well, as much as possible) to her book. It was then he spoke three words that made her do a double take.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Her head whipped up, staring at the couple across the room. However, the first thing she noticed were his eyes-looking over Pansy's shoulder and directly at her! A private joy filled her.  
  
Pansy, though, did not notice.  
  
"Oh, Draco, do you really mean it?"  
  
Hermione offered a small smile. Silently, she mouthed Pansy's words back to him again. He smirked lightly, which she considered a good sign. "Yes." Then he paused, bringing his eyes to Pansy, but making his voice a little louder and pronounced, "Will you meet me tonight at half past midnight? In the Astronomy Tower?" Gray orbs returned to look over Pansy's shoulder.  
  
A small nod confirmed his statement, then his attention returned to Pansy. She was practically squealing in glee before he "suddenly" remembered that he could not do it because Snape had threatened to give him a detention if he was out past curfew again. It was a lie, of course, but Pansy was fooled. As the girl left, Hermione stood and proceeded to go to her dormitory. She only chanced one look at Draco as she was leaving. By then he was paying her no mind, instead staring into the fire as if it held all the secrets to the world.  
  
It was only when she was inside her blankets "asleep" did she think that maybe she should have refused.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Merely drowning in the ocean that is Harry Potter.  
  
A/N: I hated the last chapter 2. I have this terrible problem; I never check anything I write before posting it. I'm a terribly lazy person, you see. And when I casually read it a few days after posting it, I wanted to throw myself off a cliff. Seriously. It was terrible! I had no idea why I was getting such wonderful reviews for that piece of CRAP. So I decided to rewrite it. And I did. Now that I have a beta, it's much better. I like it more, at least. THANK YOU ELLUXION (Aria) FOR BETA-ING FOR ME! Everyone should check out her wonderful stories. They're much better than mine. ^^ Anyway, please re-review or review or. . .yeah. :D Bye! 


	3. Meeting

57. . .  
  
58. . .  
  
59. . .  
  
12:14!  
  
Over the past hour, Hermione discovered a very important lesson: watching the clock made time go unbearably slow. Earlier in the evening, she'd attempted to do something constructive. She'd picked up her favorite book, ("Hogwarts, A History") yet even that failed to hold her attention for very long. Around eleven, she'd given up on doing anything and yielded to her desire to watch the clock.  
  
Twisting a piece of brown hair around her finger nervously, she chewed her lip in anticipation. She'd had trouble concentrating on anything but Draco since their "discussion" that evening. With a sigh, her eyes shifted over to the clock, which now read 12:15. Throwing the covers off the bed, she pulled back to curtains quietly and slipped on her shoes. She'd gotten in to bed fully dressed to save herself time, but now she wished she hadn't. It would have given her something to do other than stare at the clock as each minute slowly crept past.  
  
Figuring that being a tad early was never a bad thing, she snuck out of bed and into the Slytherin Common room. Eagerly, she walked out of the dormitories and into the hall. The Astronomy Tower was up quite a few flights of steps, and she was silently thankful that she had left earlier than she had planned. She took a few cautious steps forward as she reached the bottom of the main staircase when she bumped into someone. Or something. Quite frankly, she wasn't sure, since she couldn't see it.  
  
Backing down a bit, she spoke nervously. "Who. . .Who's there?"  
  
There was a rather defeated sigh as she saw a swish of cloth in the air. Hermione blinked once; had that cloak been there a moment ago, before her gaze traveled over to the boy in front of her.  
  
Rolling her eyes, she gave a small smile. "Harry Potter, I should have known." Her tone was slightly teasing. As much as Draco despised the boy in front of her, she'd never found the guts to hate him. He just generally seemed too. . .nice. He had been a bit more quiet and introverted since their return from fifth year, giving him a thoughtful type persona. And as much as she had tried to detest him, for Draco's sake, she couldn't help it. It was hard not to like Harry Potter.  
  
He gave a small shrug, followed by a playful grin. "Invisibility cloak. Very useful for making you invisible, not so much for avoiding running into girls in the middle of the night."  
  
A small laugh escaped her lips as she shifted her weight. She really should have been going, but felt the urge to talk to Harry. It wasn't often they got to chat, since he and Draco weren't exactly on friendly terms. "I haven't talked to you in ages. I suppose I've been a bit. . .preoccupied," she paused, then covered lamely, "with school and all."  
  
Harry shook his head disbelievingly, "Yes, school and Draco Malfoy."  
  
Trying not to look disturbed, Hermione feigned ignorance. "What does this have to do with Draco?"  
  
  
  
His fingers played with the silky material of his invisibility cloak as he avoided her gaze. "Well, nothing, except the fact that you're in love with him."  
  
Her eyes widened, and she found herself stuttering. "N-no. . .well, maybe. . .I guess. . .er. . .what I mean to say is. . ."  
  
Putting a finger to his lips, Harry shushed her. "It's okay, Hermione. I'm the only one who's noticed."  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, her gaze fell to the floor. "Thank you, Harry."  
  
She felt a hand brush her shoulder, but when she looked, there was nothing there. The only thing that betrayed his presence were the light tip toe footsteps as he walked away, and a whispered sentence.  
  
"I'll never understand why they put you in Slytherin."  
  
--  
  
She pondered Harry's statement at great length as she finished the walk to the Astronomy Tower. She was relieved when she found that she was alone. Quietly, she traveled over to the window and looked outside. The grounds were beautiful, highlighted by a pale moon. The word flittered across her mind. Pale. Pale like Draco.  
  
Time began to lengthen again, and she found herself longing for the watch that she'd accidentally left down in the dormitories. Her eyelids were beginning to droop, and her head falling against the cool glass of the window pane when there was suddenly a cool hand on her shoulder. Her sleepy gaze shifted. It was pale. Her voice sounded awkward in the silent room. "Draco?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Under his palm, her shoulder stiffened. She hadn't expected him to answer. Usually if she spoke his name he remained silent until she thought of something to talk about. It was when he replied that she worried. "What's wrong?"  
  
He slipped stealthily into the soft light of the beams that were cast through the window, facing her. His overall demeanor was different from usual; he seemed unhappy. While Draco had never been the cheeriest fellow she'd been acquainted with, he had never been classified as "sad". He was more indifferent than anything; sadness was a weakness, so he simply chose not to feel it.  
  
Taking a breath, Hermione tried to drink in as much oxygen as possible. She felt as if she were choking from a lack of communication. She opened her mouth to speak before he interrupted. "Did you know that my father once tried to kill you?"  
  
Blinking in confusion, she shook her head slightly. "N-no. I don't exactly recall that."  
  
Offering a small, listless shrug, he continued. "I don't suspect you would. We were just out of second year, and he was still boiling over the fact that we had become friends in the first place. You were talking to Potter," he spat the name, grimacing slightly, "about what courses he was planning on taking next year, when he drew his wand and said, 'How wonderful. . .two birds with one stone'."  
  
He ignored her wide-eyed expression and continued, "Anyway, I overheard this and at the last moment hit his arm so that it pointed toward the ground. I was punished for it, of course, but it had been worth it."  
  
"You saved my life." She whispered, "Thank you. . ."  
  
Leaning back against the wall, then sliding to a sitting position, his gaze shifted to the stone floor. "Of course I did. You were my friend."  
  
Furrowing her brow she scooted into a position sitting next to him. "I still am your friend." Her pause was deafening, "Did you mean what you said in the common room?"  
  
His voice was so soft she could barely hear him. "Yes."  
  
She nodded slightly, chewing her lip and attempting to think of something to say in her present awkward situation. Turning to face him, she confessed, "Draco, I-"  
  
Gently, he put his finger to her lips to shush her, before saying the one sentence she didn't want to hear.  
  
"Don't, Hermione. Don't."  
  
--  
  
The next morning, Hermione Granger woke up early despite the lack of sleep. She dressed quickly, gathered her books, then went to her head of house, Professor Snape. Her explanation of her visit was short and precise, and Snape quickly directed her to the Headmaster.  
  
Upon entering Dumbledore's office, she sat in the chair across from his desk. The kindly looking old man with intelligently blue eyes gave her an appraising look. "Yes, Miss Granger?"  
  
Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Hermione tried to mask the pain she was being caused. "Professor, I would like to be re-sorted."  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Okay, I admit it. Every single word in this chapter are from the Dictionary. You caught me. Haha, get serious, people. I don't own HP, and I never will. A/N: *ducks the flying vegetables* This chapter took longer than I thought it would. I meant it to be out last week, but I had a terrible time deciding how I wanted the tower scene to go. Then when I figured that out the scene with Harry seemed all wrong. Gaah, this story doesn't want to work with me. ;;;  
  
I'm not an author who gives out long lists of thank yous, just because they take forever and I'm a lazy person, but I really REALLY appreciate all of the warm feedback I've received! A big THANK YOU goes out to each and every one of you.  
  
There should only be a few more chapters to this story. I'd say about two or three. Short, yes, but I'm too lazy to make it long. ^^  
  
Thanks to Aria (Penname is "Elluxion", check out her EXCELLENT stories!) for beta-ing. And please r&r! 


	4. ReSorting

They'd sat there until three in the morning, discussing what had to be done.  
  
At first, it had been easy. Both of them had easily recognized problems that would spring up if they ever pursued a relationship. There were so many obstacles; the fact that Hermione was a muggleborn, or the evil truth that even staying just friends put both their lives in danger.  
  
So, together, they both reluctantly agreed that it would be best to just not see each other.  
  
At all.  
  
It had been an agonizing decision for both of them; each of them trying to appear less pained then they really were. That night, which they both suspected to be their last, was spent mostly silent. Her head lying lightly on his chest, his arms cradling her lightly, as if afraid to get too comfortable in that position. They talked when necessary, whether it was to reform the plan, or to just open their mouth and speak.  
  
It didn't really matter, because they both knew at the end of the night, they would probably never get the chance to be together again.  
  
--  
  
All of that went through Hermione's head as she looked at her Headmaster. Dumbledore was a shrewd man; at that moment, he was giving her a calculating gaze that made her squirm in her seat. She had the inkling that he probably knew what had gone on the night before. He had a knack for knowing everything that happened within the walls of Hogwarts, whether the parties involved wished him to know or not. It bothered her slightly, to know that the moment she and Draco had shared last night was most likely not theirs alone.  
  
But instead of mentioning it, Dumbledore just nodded. "May I ask why, Miss Granger?"  
  
She launched into the story that she and Draco had prepared for that moment. Starting with how she felt out of place, being the only muggle in Slytherin House, then with the mistreatment and hostility she received from everyone there. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, however, his look changed. "Even Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
In her head, she cursed the old man. She knew he had every detail of what was going on. It was never clear how he knew all that he did, but he never missed anything. Snapping back into reality, she gave a curt nod. "Malfoy and I have not been on speaking terms for over a week, and I have high doubts we will ever reconcile."  
  
He shook his aged head wisely before offering a small shrug of the shoulders. "I don't see what harm it could do. Most likely, however, you will be placed back in Slytherin."  
  
She knew she wouldn't. "And if I'm not?"  
  
Heaving a sigh, Dumbledore stood and walked to the side of her chair. "Then you will be escorted to your new house immediately. The members of said house will be alerted of your situation." He then paused, leaning so that their eyes were level. His gaze was very serious, "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
Playing with her hair nervously, Hermione chewed on her lip. Her mind screamed at her to answer him yes, and quickly, but her heart was pleading her to say no. Unfortunately, she had always been partial to logic over emotion. She nodded in conformation. "Yes, and as soon as possible."  
  
--  
  
As soon as possible turned out to be that evening. Dumbledore had asked if she had liked anyone to be present, and though she was dying to tell him that she wanted Draco there, she shook her head no. He told her that McGonagall would be there to do the ceremony, as always, but there would be no one other than them. Around seven that night she returned to the office and was instructed to sit upon the same stool that they'd had in her first year.  
  
She lowered herself onto the stool, and watched as McGonagall placed the hat atop her head. Quietly, it whispered into her ear. "Hello again. . ."  
  
To the hat, she answered. "Please place me anywhere but Slytherin. Please."  
  
It was amused, she could feel it. It made her slightly angry. "Why should I? You're nearly all the way through school. And Slytherin has proven to be a very good house for you, has it not?"  
  
"You can read my head like a book, so don't be a ninny. Just place me somewhere else!"  
  
It chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I can, can't I? My, my. . .you have changed. I do believe another house would be more appropriate for the remainder of your school years.." It paused, something of a mental hat-type shrug, "But is it necessary? You've only a year and a half left. Slytherin is still a perfectly good house. Is that what you really want?  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, she confirmed. "Yes, that's what I really want."  
  
There was a pause, then the hat shouted out. . .  
  
--  
  
Hermione had been busy for the past week. There had been much to do about her re-sorting, and along with having to deal with adjusting to a new atmosphere, she had to put up with the constant whispers of "Did you hear about Hermione Granger?" every time she passed someone in the hall.  
  
Her new house was much warmer than Slytherin, in more ways than one. She had found it almost sweltering when she had first entered. The dungeons were always cool, even when it was warm outside. A fire was constantly burning. Yet this place, alighted with red and gold, made her feel as if she were standing inside one large blaze, a thought that was both comforting and mildly disturbing.  
  
Yet the major difference she noticed was in the people. People never laughed in Slytherin, unless it was at someone else's expense. There was no joy. That didn't exist within these new walls. Not a minute passed that someone gave a hearty chuckle, and they all seemed so. . .happy.  
  
It was a strange, strange time for Hermione, those first few days in Gryffindor.  
  
The day she had entered her new common room for the first time, McGonagall had accompanied her. She'd stepped through the portrait hole, insecure and nervous as her Head of House informed them of the situation. For a moment, there had been complete silence, and she felt as if she was just as much an outcast in this house as in her last, when there was a sudden shout.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
And there he was, Harry Potter, smiling like a little boy and motioning her over to sit by him and his best friend, Ron Weasley. Awkward and blushing, she'd gathered her books to her chest and repeated the one thing she'd been trying to convince herself of ever since the hat had announced her as a Gryffindor. . .  
  
'This is your life now.' 


End file.
